


The Art of Reconciliation

by Riffler



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Arguing, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:29:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riffler/pseuds/Riffler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan and Scott are arguing, again. Jubilee helps out in an unexpected and rather alarming way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Reconciliation

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It had been a cold and rainy spring day. So cold the rain couldn't make up its mind whether to stay liquid or solid, changing from water to window-pelting sleet and back again with monotonous regularity. The kind of weather that dragged at Jubilee’s spirits, for besides the fact that Logan was gone, away on a short mission, she was also fighting a miserable cold. All in all, a good day to go to ground, as Logan liked to say. Hole up with comforting things like hot drinks and aloe tissues, a favorite blanket and a stack of good reading material.

Logan, of course, would have done a much better job at chasing her blues away.

It hadn't been so very long, half a day at most, since he'd left with Scott and a team of four young trainees to scout out the conference at the civic center. Jubilee missed Logan whenever they were apart, no matter how short the time away. He was a part of her, her growly better half, she liked to tell him. And so, lonely in his absence, feeling just a little bit sorry for herself, she had come down from her room, built a fire in the hearth of the cozy east wing library, pulling a recliner close to the flames and settling in for long, lazy hours of reading and dozing. A little pampering, on this lonesome afternoon.

Her eyes were growing heavy over her book, her headache becoming difficult to ignore, when from far back in the mansion a door slammed, and the distant sound of footsteps accompanied by voices reverberated up through the long hallway. Two people, one walking with hard, quick strides, the other nearly silent. Moments later Jubilee could make out words and her heart leaped, then sank. It was Logan and Scott, back home, and they were arguing. A bad one, by the sound of it, one that she suspected had been going on for some time. She shifted, and after a moment of indecision, snuggled deeper beneath her blanket, took a sip of her hot tea. 

"...go off half-cocked on your own, you're undermining me in the eyes of those young X Men, making them think it's cool to buck authority. I can't have that, Logan," Scott's voice drifted from the hall, tight with tension.

"Then man up, for Chrissake. Grow a pair. Use 'em." Logan replied, his voice hard. "You're pathetic, ya know that, Summers?"

"I don't care what you think of me," Scott said. "All you have to do is follow my orders. Why the hell is that always so difficult for you?"

"'Because you don’t give the right orders, One-Eye. I'm tellin’ you I caught a scent, someone I've smelled before. It was important! Couple more minutes an' I coulda--"

"I'm responsible for the team, for everybody's safety. It's my job to make the decisions. Your job is to do as I tell you. Dammit Logan, are you even listening to me?"

The footsteps stopped. Book forgotten, Jubilee listened anxiously, imagining the two men face to face, glaring. She wondered again if she should go to them, try to mitigate or just get Logan away before his temper got out of control. 

"What the hell is this, Summers, a one-man show? We all contribute, we all have a say on what we're gonna do. Way it's always been. You're talkin' like now ya want everybody muzzled an' leashed."

"That's not what I mean. When we have young trainees with us we have to be examples to them, show them through our actions how to be a team player."

"I get that. Teachin' by example, right. So what kinda example were you givin' these tender-skinned newbies when ya turned tail an' ran the second the goin' got rough? You're always pullin' that stunt, yankin' the team out too damn soon. Same ol' song an' dance, every time, an' I'm sick of it."

"Think about what I'm telling you. Use your head for once in your damn life! Can you do that? The situation was out of our hands. The police were there, in force. They had it covered. What was not needed were inexperienced mutants throwing their powers around, scaring everyone. Do you recall what this conference was about, Logan? 'The Mutant Problem Today: Decisions and Solutions'. Remember? The place was full of mutant haters. I stand by my decision to pull out when we did." 

Jubilee heard Logan huff impatiently, easily imagining his snarl, his expression as he glowered up at Scott.

"I should've gotten some more info on that scent," he said. "And we shoulda stayed to help settle the crowd. But, oh well, couldn't do none o' that 'cause our fearless leader got his undies in a bunch." 

There was a pause. And then Scott's voice came, low and intense.

"I wasn't afraid, damn you. We weren't there for crowd control. We were there to listen. To observe! We had trainees with us, it was a peaceful mission! You'll never get it, Logan, will you? You'll always be a danger to whatever team you're on. A loose cannon, unpredictable. What the hell is your problem?"

"The only problem I got right now is that yellow streak runnin' down your back." 

"That so. Uh-huh. Well too damn bad, mister, because I'm all you've got-- Dammit, don't you walk away from me--"

Slight scuffle of feet, and then a warning growl from Logan.

"You'd best get your stinkin' mitts offa me, hot-shot, or yer gonna have nothin' left but a coupla bloody stumps."

"Right, of course," Scott said. "How like you. How typical of the Wolverine. Bull-headed and brutal. Not a civilized thought in your thick skull. Just know that I won't retaliate, no matter what you do, or how angry you make me. I won't give you the satisfaction of allowing you to goad me."

Jubilee heard Logan snort. "Above all that, are ya? Holier than thou, is that it? What a fuckin' joke you are. The great Cyclops, won't even stand up for himself. Not even Jean could make you into a man, you goddamn spineless Boy Scout."

"Shut up you bastard!" Scott shouted. "Don't you even say her name around me! Got it? You got that?" A pause, his voice changed, became soft, almost conspiratorial. "Hey, you want to know something, Logan? I'll let you in on a little secret, just between you and me." Though spoken softly the words were like blades, sharp with hurtful intent. Jubilee imagined each one impaling Logan's body as Scott flung them forth. Her eyes closed, she waited, scarcely breathing. This was going to be bad, she just knew it. 

"You'll like this," Scott went on. "It's time you knew the truth, so listen up. Jean said something to me once, something very interesting. Yeah. She told me she was afraid of you. Uh-huh. That's right. Afraid. Of you."

The silence in the hallway was complete. Finally came the rumble of Logan's voice, its timbre leaving no question that he was treading the very edge, and struggling to not tumble over.

"That may be," he said tightly, evenly. "But at least she knew a real man, before she died."

"Wh-- a real man?" Scott's laugh was a harsh, angry bark. "That what you're calling yourself now? What kind of real man takes a child to his bed--"

Jubilee leaped from her chair as the sounds of Logan's roar of rage, crashing bodies and breaking wood erupted from the hallway. Through the door in time to see Scott pinned and struggling against the cracked wooden wall, hands clamped around Logan's throat, and Logan slamming a clawless fist into Scott's gut. 

Jubilee flung herself at the pair, struggling to push them apart, quickly realizing this was not the best course to take as she was nearly crushed between them as they grunted and strained. Logan had stopped his punches when she fell against them and began pushing Scott away from her. His intent became clear as the taller man struggled to keep upright but, overpowered, lost his balance, began to topple. Logan used the momentum to sling his adversary the last few feet to the floor. Jubilee flailed, her support abruptly gone, and suddenly, weirdly dizzy, she staggered helplessly over Scott's sprawling legs, nearly falling herself until Logan seized her, pulled her behind him. He stood over the man as, scowling, Scott gathered himself, sat up.

"You came close that time, Summers," Logan panted, snarling down at him. "Real close. Say anything like that to me or Jubilee again, I swear t' God, I ain't gonna hold back. I'll finish the job. That's a promise. You got that?"

"Yeah, I got it." Scott climbed to his feet. His hand briefly found his jaw, touched the angry red mark that was beginning to swell. His eyes met Jubilee's, held them a moment before Logan turned away, taking her with him. 

As they rounded the corner, Scott's voice reached them. "This isn't over Logan! You hear me? This is not over!"

~~~~~~~~~~~

They went directly to Logan's room. 

He was raging, reluctant to let go of his anger and he paced the room with fists clenched, told her he had to leave for a while, get away from the school, go someplace where he could become calm, and center himself. Somewhere with no threat of Scott showing up. He was going out to his cabin on the estate grounds, he said, to cool off. He wanted her to accompany him, and Jubilee was eager to go. She felt it, too, the need to get away, to escape. She dashed to her room, changed into warmer clothes, seized her jacket as they flew out the door. They walked quickly arm in arm across the mansion's vast lawns, following the railroad tracks far up past the reservoir, and finally into the darkening, dripping woods. 

The forest at night was a mysterious and other-worldly place. She wished she could see in blackness like Logan, see the trees and the bushes and all the forest creatures that surely must be hiding all around them. Interesting as this was, Jubilee also wished fervently that driving to Logan's cabin was an option, what with the sleety rain still battering down and the very air seeming to freeze up, foggy and thick. She was thoroughly wet in no time, shivering, clutching Logan's arm. Her mild headache from earlier was fierce now, and she would have given anything for a tissue instead of her soggy sleeve to wipe her dripping nose. But driving to his cabin actually took longer than walking all the way, what with no roads in this wood, or even close to it, and the cabin positioned as far back in that forest as it could possibly be.

Logan felt her shivering, suggested they turn back but she knew his heart wasn't in it. Jubilee insisted that being away from the mansion, from Scott, was good for them both now and so they pushed on. It wasn't a lot further, after all. They were almost there. He put his own jacket around her shoulders, his arm about her waist, and picked up the pace.

It wasn't too much longer before they were inside his cabin at last, shrugging off wet jackets, hanging them over chairs pulled close to the fireplace. She could faintly see her breath in the cabin's chilly interior, and rubbed her cold hands together, shuddering. Logan quickly built a fire up to a roaring blaze and standing her before it, helped her to shed her damp shirt and jeans and shoes. Gave her a set of warm, clean sweats and a pair of wool socks. She donned them gratefully. They smelled pleasantly of cedar, as did the blanket he'd taken from a chest against the wall. 

Logan got her settled on the couch before the flames, wrapped in her blanket, offered her hot soup, tea, but she wasn't interested in food. An aspirin or two would have been accepted but he had none. Thankfully tissues were available, and he brought her the box from the bathroom. When he finally sat beside her she shared her blanket with him, rested her throbbing head on his shoulder, feeling wonderfully warm and dry but her eyes were strangely hot, felt swollen, as if they were too big for their sockets. She let them drift closed, they felt better that way, and listened to him talk about the scent he'd caught at the conference. Grateful he didn't bring up Scott and their terrible altercation. Scott's verbal attack against Logan had hurt her, too. What a terrible thing to reveal to him, such a low blow. And then that child comment... She wiggled uncomfortably. She and Scott were friends, had an understanding. Why, he'd told just a week or two ago how level-headed she was, how she was one to depend on, in a pinch. It had pleased her greatly, his remark, and so made his comments to Logan about her all the more hurtful. 

Jubilee sighed, snuggling closer. She didn't want to think about Scott any more. Yawning, gingerly rubbing her sore eyes, she told Logan he should go back and follow that scent, check it out, determine if the one that left it was someone of interest. She trusted his judgment. If he thought it was important, then it must be. He should go. The sooner the better, before the trail washed completely away in the weather.

But Logan worried that she would need him, need something, if he left. She was ill and he told her he would feel better if he stayed with her, all the while glancing distractedly at the sleet pelting against the window. Jubilee spent some time reassuring him that she wasn't truly ill, it was only a cold, of course he need not worry at all, she would be very comfortable here. This was nice, almost a little vacation of sorts, away from the activity of the school. Away from Scott. She needed a break, too. 

When she woke up later in the night, she knew immediately that Logan had left. She was cozily tucked into his bed, a cup of cooling tea and her box of tissues on the nightstand within easy reach. A little note was propped against her cell phone, written in Logan's neat, compact hand. It read, "I shouldn't be too long. Stay in, sleep. Keep the fire going. Don't forget to eat something. Love ya, L."

Smiling, Jubilee turned onto her side and was instantly sound asleep once again.

The sound of heavy rain woke her. It was very late, nearly pitch black, only a somber gray luminescence faintly entering the cabin's windows, a weak, watery glow that utterly failed to penetrate the shadows shrouding the cabin's interior. It was chilly, too, her breath misted faintly before her, and rattled thickly in her chest. Coughing painfully, she leaned on an elbow, peering into the living room. She couldn't see the fire’s flames anymore and the coals looked gray, dead. Shivering, wheezing slightly, Jubilee wrapped herself in the blanket, forced herself to climb out of bed. Her feet, swaddled in the thick wool socks, felt heavy and hot, burning against the cold floor. To her dismay the fire was indeed out, the bed of ashes cold to her touch. 

It was hard to think. She stood swaying for a few moments. What to do? Start the fire again, of course. Wouldn't there be a lighter, a match somewhere? Her head was pounding miserably, her eyes felt hotter than ever, in fact her entire body was achy and feverish, sweaty. How can I be so hot when it's freezing in here? She let the blanket drop to the floor, muzzily aware that her cold had taken a big turn for the worse and maybe she needed to do something about that.

But what? Sleep....sleep. Yes, that’s the thing. She’d feel better later, surely. She stumbled back to bed, fire forgotten, and pulled the sheet up over her head, shivering violently, wishing it was warmer, wishing Logan would return and warm her up. Wishing she was well and not a pile of aches and sniffles and... perspiration. Sweating again? Hot, just so hot, too...too...what? What had she just been thinking? Didn't matter. She flung the sheet away. 

Where was Logan? She was aware that she should know the answer to this question, but try as she might, it eluded her. She wanted him by her side, helping, comforting, he was her strength, her support. She needed him. Fumbling, Jubilee found her cell phone, somehow managing not to knock it to the floor. Punched a button. She would tell him to please come get her, she needed him, needed....she had to...

She started when a voice pierced her ear, she’d nearly fallen asleep. What was she doing here, what was this place? Oh, the cabin, of course. How could she forget? Alarmed at her growing confusion, she said hoarsely into the phone, “Logan? The cabin’s cold and I can’t find a lighter. Why didn't you leave me a match or something? I--I don’t feel so well--” a violent fit of coughing seized her. “Do you know why it’s always so hot?” she croaked when it passed. The question didn't seem right, like there was something much more important she should be asking, but what could it possibly be? After a long time of silence she inspected the phone closely and realized it had gone dead. 

Logan’s note caught her eye. Sleep. Keep the fire going. Eat. Okay, sleep she could do. No problem there. The fire, well he’d screwed that up by not leaving her a lighter. Eat? Not hungry and the kitchen was too far away anyway, it was too cold to get out of bed again. She sat up and blew her nose, ears popping painfully. Settled back with a sigh, tumbling immediately into dreamless sleep.

Hands. So... so many hands... touching. Prodding. She moved slowly, torturously up from deep, drenching slumber. Big hands, warm hands. Brushing her cheek. Resting against her forehead. Nice, if they'd just stop pulling at her, too. A voice, speaking low and soft. Who...? Oh. Logan. Of course. Thank God. The hands were tugging, lifting. She protested with a groan. Let me sleep... hurts to move... Wrapping something way too warm about her. Big sweep of motion, she was picked up, held against a wide chest. More jarring movement, a sickening swaying. What was happening? What was this, now?

“Wolvie?” she murmured, struggling to gather her thoughts. “What...”

“It’s me,” came a different voice and she reared back, heavy eyelids opening at last, startled to see her own distorted face leering back at her from a band of mirrored silver bisected by a slash of ruby. 

She nearly screamed. The enemy! Had her! They were outside, she was being carried away from the cabin. Away from Logan! Pafpafpaf, her mind stuttered, she struggled to free her hands from swathes of blanket and blast him good, even as she began to grasp that she knew this person, he was not the enemy, not at least in the strictest sense...

“It’s Scott, Jubilee. Try to calm down, everything’s alright,” he said to her. “I’m taking you back to the mansion.”

Scott? Oh...but... She struggled again to marshal her thoughts. The effort of putting the correct words in the correct order was much too difficult. You shouldn't be here, she wanted to say. Logan won't... he won't like it. Scott's presence at Logan's cabin was as incongruous to her as seeing a deer walk from the woods dressed in a tuxedo. It was all so...surreal. Like the forest they were moving through... it couldn’t be a real, either, could it? Its otherworldly appearance lent credence to her confused thoughts. Every inch of bark and grass, every tiny, whorled leaf bud glittered and winked with a pale diffused light. The woods was encased in a thick layer of ice that groaned and creaked and occasionally shattered, sprinkling them with shards of cold as they swept by. Looking up she caught glimpses of a ragged-edged moon emerging from behind torn clouds.

“Wh--where’s Logan?” she finally managed.

“You tell me,” Scott murmured, shifting her weight, picking up his pace even more. 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

She dreamed she was walking up a hill, or trying to, for with each step the ice-covered gravel slipped beneath her feet and she had to scramble to keep her footing. But finally she lost the battle and fell, and she knew with a terrible certainty that she was about to tumble out of control. She wouldn't be able to stop, and she knew she would be at the very least grievously hurt when she hit bottom. Moaning with fear, she reached, flailing, for a hand-hold, anything to stop this terrifying plunge...

"Easy there, easy darlin'. You're okay. I've got you..." 

Jubilee's eyes flew open. She was.... in the lab. Back at the mansion. And Logan was at her side, sitting on the edge of her bed, holding her hand in his. 

"Wolvie," she said. "Are-- are you real?"

"You ain't dreamin' any more, darlin'. I'm real. Don't worry, you got nothin' to worry about." He stroked her cheek, brushed the hair away from her face.

"What happened to me?" she said, lifted her other arm, the one with the IV inserted into the back of her hand.

"That cold you had, Hank says it developed into pneumonia. You got real sick-- I--I'm sorry I left ya alone, I shouldn't have gone runnin' after that scent. I'm real sorry, Jubes."

"There's nothing to apologize for. Who knew this would happen?" She gestured to her arm, her self, lying in bed. "Please don't worry about that, Logan. It just happened and no-one's to blame. I feel a lot better, anyway. Tons." 

Something occurred to her. "Hey, why didn't you leave me some matches or a lighter or something for the fire? How d'you think--"

"They were right there on the mantle, Jubilee. One o' those big boxes o' kitchen matches."

"Oh. Really? I guess I didn't see them. I was so confused... But geez, how could I have missed them? I was standing right there!"

"Hank said this kinda pneumonia you have can cause that. Confusion, even mild hallucinations, gets bad enough. Dammit. If only I hadn't left you. Shoulda taken care o' you, kept you safe. Were you-- were you afraid, darlin'?"

"A little, I guess. At times. Everything just got so weird. But mostly I was okay. Just waiting for you. Wanting you back with me."

"Jesus. I'm sorry..."

Quietly, they studied each other. Jubilee realized Logan's shirt was the same one he'd worn at the cabin, only now it was torn, hanging in ribbons on the left side, the right arm of it ripped entirely away. 

"So what happened? You're all ripped up, your shirt. There's blood, too. What happened with that scent?"

He seemed reluctant to speak of it but she urged him to tell her what he'd found and eventually he revealed the strange scent was indeed one of importance. He had followed it's twisting, convoluted trail as it led from the conference center to the mansion. He'd pinpointed the man's location at the far side of the grounds, crouching in a thick patch of shrubs. Logan had waited for this person to make a move, keeping to cover himself in a stand of willows nearby. It was a couple hours before dawn when the man's shadowy form separated itself from the darkness around it, began to creep toward the silent, sleeping mansion. Logan followed, and when the man's hands touched the window sill, began to work at lifting it, he struck, seizing him, flinging him down, but the guy was a hell of a fighter and had come up armed with a 'blade and some sort of razor-studded fist guard that had for a few moments done some serious damage to Logan's clothing and skin before he freed the bastard of his weapons. Knocked him out good and proper with a well-aimed fist to his kisser. Guy had a fuckin' glass jaw, turns out that hit shattered it, broke his nose all to hell, too.

"Remember a few weeks ago, Jubes, how we were gettin' those break-ins, and stuff on the grounds damaged during the night? Remember when Slim found that dead dog hangin' in the oak tree? It was this low-life done all that."

"But--those are little things, I mean, compared to what it seemed like he was going to do this time. Those weapons he had... why would he suddenly--"

"It was that damn conference got him stirred up, what I'm bettin'. Decided he was gonna do somethin', finally show everybody what he thinks of us."

"You think he was breaking in this time to kill someone?...what--how could anyone do that, he must be insane or something, mentally ill--"

"Come on, you know all this, Jubes. We're mutants. We ain't human so it ain't murder."

"Well what did Scott say? Have you talked to him?"

"No. I need to. Gonna apologize for throwin' down on him. Callin' him weak, a coward."

"But--you are? What he said--"

"I think we need t' just forget about that. He did a good thing, bringin' you back here. And anyway I was outta line, he was right about followin' his orders on a mission. He just irritates the shit outta me sometimes, still think he pulls us out too damn soon." He sighed, frowning. "Guess we'll always lock horns about that."

"Of course we will. Wouldn't be the same, if I didn't have you to push me into going just a little bit farther." Scott strode into the lab. Logan got quickly to his feet to face him. "Trying just a little bit harder."

"How long you been listening?" Logan said, frowning.

"Long enough to know that I need to apologize to you, first. To both of you." He turned to Jubilee. "How are you feeling? You look so much better."

"I am better," she said cautiously. "Scott, thank you for--for figuring it all out, and coming to get me."

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier, Jubilee," he looked to Logan, back to her. "The child thing. I didn't mean it, honestly. I was angry. I hope you both will forgive me."

He turned to Logan. "And I shouldn't have told you... what Jean said. I'm sorry, Logan."

"You were just tellin' me the truth. That's better than livin' a lie. Always suspected it, anyway. Whatever." Logan shrugged, cricked his neck. Jubilee knew he was still hurting over that knowledge, knew this fresh pain had found its way into his heart, and wondered if his healing factor would have any power at all to dull it. Maybe all that would help was time. She found it much harder than Logan apparently did, to forgive Scott that revelation.

"I'm sorry too, Summers. I'll try harder t' follow those damn orders o' yours. Sorry I said you were a Boy Scout. Even though you are."

The two men stood silently, regarding each other. She hid a smile, scrubbing her face with her hand. Logan was apologetic and in Scott's debt, but he still wanted-- or needed?-- to clash with him, even if just in the smallest of ways. He was holding Scott's gaze as the moments dragged on, until frowning slightly, Scott finally looked away. 

Posturing. All that testosterone... Silly men! She said with some exasperation, "Guys. The break-in killer dude...? What about him?"

"In the brig," Scott said. "He's a tough character. You did good, going back, checking it out, Logan. I should know by now when you say it's important, it usually is. I'll let you have more slack to do what you're good at, I promise.” His voice hardened. “Except when we have a bunch of trainees with us and the situation turns bad, then the only thing I expect you to do is toe the line."

"What the hell--" Logan burst out, and Jubilee sat up in alarm, but Scott surprised them by laughing. "Don't get your undies in a bunch, there, Wolverine. I'm yanking your chain."

He left the room, smiling, shaking his head.

"Good man," Logan rumbled softly after a pause, sitting on the bed again, taking her hand into his.

"What did you say?" Jubilee asked. "Didn't quite get that."

"I said Slim's a good man. Best man for the job. I don't envy him, what he's got to do, the decisions he has to make."

"Why didn't you tell him? That would have been nice, don’cha think, letting him know that's how you feel?"

"He knows enough. Don't need him gettin' a swelled head, thinkin' I admire him or anything like that."

"Oh, no, of course not. Never that!" They smiled, laughed. Logan was about to gather her carefully into his arms, lie with her, when from down the hallway came Scott's voice.

"I always knew you held me in high esteem, my friend. Never doubted it for a moment."

"Jesus, Summers, what the hell ya doin', lurkin' and listenin' out there? Can't we have a private conversation, for God's sake?"

Jubilee laughed, pulled Logan down to her, kissed him resoundingly on his beautiful lips. She scooted over, he snuggled in, holding her, drawing the blanket over their heads. 

When Hank found them much later, sleeping in a tangle of bedding, Jubilee's face was damp and cool, her fever broken. He pulled the IV from her hand, somehow managing not to wake her, but Logan's eyes glittered up at him, watchful, aware. Henry nodded, slipped away as Logan turned, began to gently kiss Jubilee awake. 

Waking up to kisses and Logan's warm arms around her was something Jubilee would never tire of. He was tender and solicitous, insisting on carrying her to her room, tucking her in. It was wonderful to be in her own bed, Logan nearby in a chair, tending to her needs, keeping watch as the sun rose, as the mansion around them came alive, so she could sleep undisturbed. She knew he would still be there when she awoke, and it was wonderful, that comfort. The best thing for her to finish getting well, and back on her feet.

Just...him. Logan. He was all she needed. 

Well, that and those antibiotics that’d been pumped into her.

The last thing she saw as she slipped into peaceful, healing sleep, was his hand, reaching, gently grasping hers, giving it a little reassuring squeeze. She returned the pressure, drifting into a dream of herself and Logan striding through the forest, his forest, into the sunrise, their shadows stretching out long and thin behind them, following the path of their bright and shining future, together.


End file.
